


if home is really where the heart is, then we're the smartest kids i know

by oneandlonely



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Faeries AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneandlonely/pseuds/oneandlonely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, so this is a Valentine's Day gift for justyouraverageinternetuser, who asked for a Soulmate AU with lots of happy feels. I really did try to do that, but then it turned into a soulmate!faery!au and now it has a life of its own. I hope you enjoy it, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if home is really where the heart is, then we're the smartest kids i know

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, thanks to my own soulmate, simplegnommish for listening to my whining. 
> 
> I took the title from a Kimya Dawson song called My Rollercoaster

The day of Sherlock’s fifteenth birthday, he woke up at midnight, or rather, the house woke him up. His bed rocking with enough force to drive him away from his sleepy state, the covers delicately drifting away from him, with a long yawn and a stretch he sat on the bed for a minute, blinking himself awake. 

With a sigh, he stood up and let the house gently guide him to his bathing room, the bathtub already filled with warm water, the smell of lavender and sea salt lingering in the air. Sherlock disrobed slowly and sunk himself in the water, making the bath last as long as he could, until the water turned cold and being deep in it started feeling unpleasant. 

When he got out, he dressed himself in his best doublet, the one made from moonlight, dew and shadows cast by oaks, making it appear both dark and light at the same time. The tiny pixies that formed part of the servitude at the Holmes household, fussed around him, annoying as ever, trying to tame the dark curls upon his head. He batted them away ungracefully and stalked away. 

The house guided him to the kitchen, where his family members were already gathered, all dressed as prettily as Sherlock himself. His parents were dressed in matching embers and Mycroft in autumn leaves. Her mother smiled and walked over to him the moment she laid her eyes on him. 

“My dearest boy, you look as stunning as the sky at dusk” She said placing both hands on his shoulders and a kiss upon his forehead. “Now, it is time to depart.”

At those words the main entry to the house opened, allowing them to go outside where the carriage was waiting for them. 

“Is this necessary?” Asked Sherlock one more time, as if he did not already know the answer. 

“It is the tradition. Love Conquers All, my dearest.” Said his mother with endless patience. “Our dearest Queen is a traditionalist and it will not sit well with her having a member of her Court that does not respects her desires” 

“And if we must be honest, we too respect this values, as it is the code of out Court.” His father added without missing a beat. 

“Surely, my brother could make it that it goes unnoticed or at least that it is not talked about at court, since at such a young age he has managed to make himself an important position inside the Court.” Argued Sherlock, trying not to lose his temper since that would make his loss come sooner. And maybe just maybe he could get his family to see this time around.

 

“Ah, but why would I wish to so such a thing?” His brother replied, looking far too pleased with himself. Sherlock knew Mycroft was hoping for a marriage that would secure his place in the Court, as if he needed it. Somehow he had manage to have half the Seelie Court in the palm of his hand, surely it wasn’t because of his charm. 

“I do not bear any interest in love, as I’m too busy trying to discover the secrets of the universe.” He said sharply.

“It wounds me deeply that you would say such a thing, son” Her mother sighed sadly, in a way that made Sherlock regret his words.”But you’ll see it sooner or later.”

“In any case, we are well on our way. It is best that you resign yourself.” His father said.

Sherlock crossed his arms, but did not utter another word. Mycroft smiled at him and Sherlock wished there was a way of throwing his brother out of the carriage without upsetting his mother. Instead, he contented himself with staring sullenly out of the window, as he watched the landscape swish past them.

 

The Holmes family lived inside a manor made of leaves, but the seeress of the Seelie court lived inside a tree, an enormous oak with leaves that stayed green all year long. The branches were draped in many kinds of flowers and a blown glass lamp rested on each side of the trunk. 

They were getting out of the carriage when the seeress opened a door and stood out of her home, a dryad all clad in white petals crowned by a circlet of pansies. She smiled at them and made a polite curtsy, which they returned immediately.

“Ah, the tea is ready, do come inside, please. We have much to do” She said, beckoning them with a wave of her tiny hand. 

The four of them did as they were told and soon found themselves in a cozy living room, where a fire that smelled of eucalyptus was burning and five porcelain teacups were set on five porcelain saucers, there was a big teapot resting in the middle of them. 

“Please, sit” The seeress said, the second the words left her lips five chairs appeared next behind them. She smiled once again as she served her tea and place a teacup in front of each of them. 

“It is a big day for you, isn’t it, Sherlock?” She asked while she added sugar and cream to her teacup. 

“Oh, is it?” He retorted, moodily. 

“But of course!” She looked slightly bewildered before giggling. “I thought you were supposed to be a curious one” 

“I am, but I am afraid it will be difficult to move forward and discover things when attached to some dead weight.” 

His mother left out a small gasp and both Mycroft and his father gave him looks that mixed disappointment with surprise, but the seeress just smiled once again. 

“Ah, but it will be easier to see things with someone who’ll make the way brighter, don’t you think?” She said casually, after taking a sip of her tea. 

“I doubt a person could do that and why would I need them to, if I can do it myself?” He replied rolling his eyes. 

The seeress shook her head. “Come on now, my boy, it is time to see who will be the one that will make you realize the mistake you’re in.” She took a long swig emptying her teacup before standing up and leading the way to one of her chambers.

Sherlock stood up and followed her reluctantly through a very narrow hall that smelled of moss, until they arrived to a small room shaped like the full moon. There was a lamp floating above their heads giving clear white lie to the room, there was a round table with two seats placed right in front of each other. There was no crystal ball or scrying bowl placed on it, just a pretty tablecloth probably made by sylphs going by the delicacy of the design and the handiwork. 

She sat down and motioned Sherlock to do the same. For a whole minute all they did was stare into the each other’s eyes. The seeress had eyes the color of storms and they were as unsettling as one, but Sherlock did not look away, he held her focused gaze looking utterly bored.

“Give me your hand” She said holding her own out. She wrapped Sherlock’s hands between her own tiny cold ones and closed her eyes. They stayed like that for a few seconds or a whole hour, Sherlock could not know. When she opened her eyes again they glowed a bright purple, no white of black to be seen anywhere. 

“Ah, he will caring, for all you are careless. It will bring balance. He’ll be kind, but a fighter at heart, ready to take on any challenge. Not noble born, but a courtier. He will be a stone, not a brittle dead one, but the strong ones that provide support.” Her last words faded and she sighed, closing her eyes once again and letting go of Sherlock’s hand. 

 

The seeress opened her eyes one more time and they looked as always, she smiled like nothing had happened and stood up. 

“There you have it, what the universe has told me.” She said. “Do you think you have met him yet?” She asked cheerfully. 

Sherlock snorted for he had been raised and educated at home and while Mycroft already had a place at the Seelie Court , he had yet to be introduced. “Hardly.” 

“Oh. It may be sooner than you think, keep your eyes open.” She said.

That was exactly what he was planning not to do. It wasn’t much of a plan, since it was most probable that his soulmate would be looking for him, but mayhap with a bit of luck, he’d miss Sherlock. 

Those were his thoughts as they reached the room they had left the rest of his family in. The conversation ceased with their arrival. His mother stood up, curiosity burning in her eyes and asked the seeress what she had seen. The dryad told her gladly and it felt extremely invasive to Sherlock, who groaned in protest but was painfully scorned. 

They all gave her words of gratitude and bowed politely before leaving back to their own abode. 

 

 

Avoiding the Seelie Court was easy enough at first, he was not to be introduced until his seventeenth solstice and as much as their mother insisted, Mycroft only took him to Court twice or thrice in those years, for it was frowned upon even for Mycroft to let your younger brother roam around the palace unsupervised. Perhaps, if Sherlock had not been so troublesome it would have proven an easier feat. 

The boy had meant to completely detest those trips to the Palace, but found it extremely difficult to dislike such a residence. He always figured Court would be a deeply boring place, a large grey blocky building, as boring on the outside as the deeds that came together on the inside. Of course, he was wrong, for Queen Irene would never live in such a dreadful place. 

Instead, the palace was surrounded by ample gardens, wherein lain large trees and dainty flowers, bushes with berries, and flowers where butterflies of every color sat to rest. There were ponds some of the marsh fae enjoyed and pebble paths that got lost into tall walls of bushes.  
The palace itself had to be the most impressive building Sherlock had ever seen. Its walls made from opalescent stones that glimmered every color of the rainbow when they caught the light just right. The tall crystal windows were adorned with frames made by the dwarves. As beautiful as they were resistant. 

The insides were a bit less of Sherlocks liking with its long wide corridors full of doors he was not allowed to open and the loud chatter of the inhabitants of the palace, courtiers and their handmaidens. It was no wonder why Mycroft decided to take a manor near the palace rather than live amidst the barely detained chaos. 

It did not shifted and changed based on his whims, as his own house did, with the myriad of people traipsing around and the chambermaids running errands, it proved impossible. Sherlock was told the Palace only answered to the commands of the Queen herself and a few chosen ones. 

Once they arrived, Mycroft left him alone at the refectory where some demi-fae served him fruit and clotted cream, since he had to attend important meetings Sherlock was not allowed to contemplate. After warning him multiple times not to be the author of any wreckage, he let Sherlock go.

For a minute or two, Sherlock entertained himself with the idea of causing hysteria among the mass of people, maybe set fire to the flowers, set a spark on one of the pretty tapestries, he was after all very good with his element and a the tiniest spark could cause a forest fire, that was a concept he was very familiar with. See how well Mycroft would fare against the rage of the Court.

 

 

But then a fairy with a long brown braid stumbled upon him, the impact made her lost her balance and he had to move swiftly to catch her before she hit the ground. Once upright, she blushed furiously muttering a string of blessings so fast it was hard to catch any of what she said.

She kneeled to pick up a stack of parchment and a big book bound in leather and copper, that she had dropped. For the first time, Sherlock looked at her, properly. She wasn’t wearing petals, but strong leaves. Her hands were stained green and yellow, she had bad posture as if she spent a lot of time bending down but was definitely not a maidservant. The book was a dead giveaway.

“You don’t seem the type know your way around potions and yet...” He told her. 

The comment was not well received, for she straightened and frowned. “I am this palace’s potion master, Molly Hooper, at the service of the Seelie Court and my Queen.” She stated proudly, although the effect was diminish greatly when she bowed down her head after she finished talking. 

“May I see?” 

Molly seemed surprised what someone would ask such a question, Sherlock guessed not many residents of the palace would want to embroil themselves with the world of potions. She nodded rapidly after a moment of consideration and asked him to follow her. 

That’s how he learned that maybe not every affair enclosed within the palace was as boring as those Mycroft dealt with. 

 

 

Thus when the morning of his seventeenth birthday arrived, with its much accustomed overcast sky and cold breeze, the idea of being introduced at Court was much less dreadful than it was two years ago. Sherlock entertained himself with books and puzzles until the hour to get ready for the evening arrived. 

He was to dress up in his element, so he fashioned himself waistcoat fabricated from flame and smoke itself. The pixies had long ago given up on trying to control his mop of curls, thus they left him to his own devices. Once he was ready, he joined his family in the kitchen. They broke their fasts with bread, honey and warmed milk. The rest of his family was also wearing their own elements, with her mother dressed in seafoam and Mycroft, being more subtle sported the colors of the sea. His father wasn’t an elemental, but a musician and he showed it in the details, the bass clef pin on his cravat, the quavers in his sleeves, but also the way the simple action of tapping his fingers was mellifluous or how he was always humming a song only he could hear. 

There was no fanfare, they went to the Palace and dine with the noblemen and women, afterwards all the courtiers, including Queen Irene mingled in a bigger hall. At some point, Mycroft beckoned him and they approached the Queen. Both of them gave her deep bows and she nodded graciously in response. She carried herself with the air of someone who knows their wishes will be granted, no matter what. 

“Your Majesty, this is my brother Sherlock, he turned seventeen today.” Mycroft announced. 

“Ah, what a dapper young man is your brother, Lord Mycroft” She said, her ruby red lips forming a smile. “I’m sure it will be a pleasure having you on my Court.” She added as she extended her hand for Sherlock to kiss her ring, which he did and both were promptly dismissed afterwards, as there were lots of nobles trying to reach the Queen. 

There were arrangements made at the Palace and a few nights later, he found himself living in his own chambers at the Palace. They were big and comfortable and he got assigned two pixies to watch for his needs, it was a comfortable compromise and even if he did wished to have a home away from the Palace like his brother did, he would have to wait a few years, any other way would seem extremely uncouth. He wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon, since the intrigues and little treasons nobles often engaged on, sometimes proved themselves to be alluring distractions. 

 

 

The first year at Court was undoubtedly a most exasperating experience. He was aware of his older brother’s fame at Court, but apparently the aristocracy had a hard time understanding he did not wish to partake on their romps. For months he found himself being stopped in his strolls through the Palace by Baron Whathisname or Lady Whatherface to share gossip or getting invitations in silver trays to walk along the gardens or dine with other nobles, all desirous of dissecting Mycroft’s little brother’s mind, aching to pick on all the Holmes brothers’ secrets and arrange them on the floor for the world to contemplate. 

When he turned them down, over and over again, they continued their advances in what Sherlock though was a rather unelegant fashion, stopping and swarming him like flies around fruit. As a consequence his plain ‘no’s gained a bit of edge. 

“I found myself in the way of Lady Pemberley on my way here” Announced Captain Lestrade, chief of the Royal Guard. “She was seething with anger, mumbling under her breath about that Holmes boy.”

Sherlock lifted his head from the sample he was studying under the microscope, Molly was looking at him with those big sad eyes of her, the unspoken question clear ‘what did you do this time?’. Lady Hooper was not very well liked in Court even though she was well mannered and cleaned up nicely when she had to, but there was royal blood coursing through her veins and here she was on a workshop mixing potions to cure the flu or kill a man, a task most courtiers considered fitting for people of a much lower category. 

 

They had been spending a lot of time together since Sherlock’s installment in the Palace, which only added to people’s terrible opinion of her, but the potions workshop was Molly’s little realm where she found solace from the hostile courtiers and she welcomed Sherlock to join and lend a hand with the trade. 

“I told her that if she kept wearing those jewels someone might suspect of her affair with Baron Adair, given her husband’s current economic dilemma.” He said returning to his sample. “I thought she would get her wits back quicker, she did step on my foot, after all”

Lady Hooper shook her head. “That’s the seventh noble you anger this week, that’s not gonna be good for your reputation, Sherlock.” She warned him grimly. 

“Good maybe that way they’ll finally leave me alone.” Was his reply. “Now, I do believe the Captain is in need of something and I doubt is the company of his brother-in-law, given the fact that we have to see each other in every family gathering, aside of Palace’s events”

Even though they had wed more than a year ago, no one was sure of how exactly had his brother and Captain Lestrade met, everyone brushed it off as one of those inevitabilities that prove you will always find your soulmate and that Love Conquers, but Sherlock held a firm suspicion that it had something to do with Mycroft’s web of spies, a structure so solid it had been going on for years inside both the Seelie and the Unseelie Court. 

“He is right, as per usual, my lady.” Said Lestrade, turning to face Molly. 

“Of course, what will you be needing this evening, my lord?” She said, leading the way to the rows of shelves when she kept the potions she had already made. 

 

 

Once the novelty of his arrival diminished, it became somewhat easier for him to bear the most annoying of the courtiers, however the rumour of his ‘ability to know everything about everyone’ spread through Court like wildfire and now he found himself receiving letters soliciting his services. He thought it a good project to start, he had to admit to himself he liked untangling the contrives of Court, especially when it involved lost relatives or a mysterious poisoning, the silk stockings could be fairly ruthless, he had to give them that. 

Mostly he spent time in between projects at the potions workshop, solving mysteries or at the tinker’s workshop, the old dwarf who ran it was not especially fond of Sherlock, or anyone else for that matter, but he was presumptuous enough that the mere presence of Sherlock inside the workshop made him think his work was admire. 

It was silly paying mind to the continuous rumours about him and Lady Hooper that were often whispered behind their backs whenever they were seeing together at balls or dinners held at Court. Especially, when Sherlock knew the potions master was seeing someone else at the moment, although he ignored whom this person could be, maybe he should try opening one of the letters Molly sometimes received when working at the potions workshop. He didn’t think Molly would realize someone had been tampering with her mail. 

Those were his thoughts, as he laid on top of one of the work benches, waiting for his experiment to boil, when someone knocked on the door, the sound awakened his curiosity for no one had ever done that in the three years he had been living in the Court. Molly was off attending some thing or another, but she would never knock the door of her own home; Captain Lestrade never knocked either and everyone else who wanted or needed a potion prefered to purchase it at the apothecary which is where Molly sent the batches she did not kept for Lestrade or for her own personal collection. 

“Come in” Called Sherlock at the insistence of the knocks, as he was sure the door was unlocked. 

In came a short sidhe with sand colored hair and a strange dispassionate gaze. He dressed plainly in neutral colors and carried himself stiffly, so he must have been a member of the army at some point, but he did not appear to be an Elemental. Sherlock was sure he had never seen him before, but the newly arrived sidhe seemed familiar, like a melody you’ve heard once long ago. 

The sidhe faltered at the door for an instant before asking. “Are you alright?” 

“Perfectly.” He sat down on the workbench, legs crossed, his eyes raked up and down the newly arrived sidhe. “Now, you, what are you doing here? No one comes here just for fun. I’m sure you’ve recently arrived to Court, so you probably haven’t made enemies yet, so you’re not looking for a potion to get vengeance, your recentness here also means you’re not yet involved in intrigues and I doubt you are going to clean your chambers or make a little garden, so...what are you doing here?”

“Uh, I was sent here by the main healer, to get some potions she said she usually sends pixies, but they weren’t around today, so... ” He shrugged and left the sentence unfinished. “How did you know I’m new to Court?” He asked, looking mildly uncomfortable. 

Huh. Maybe they received more knocks on the door than those Sherlock was aware of. “I haven’t seen you around before.” He answered with a shrug. 

“It’s a big Court.”

Sherlock shrugged once again, “I am acquainted with everyone who lives here, including the servitude, it’s part of the things I do. You’re the new healer Madame Sawyer has been mentioning she needs, I know as much.”

“Yes, my name is John Watson.” His hand out for him to shake. 

“Sherlock Holmes” He said, taking John’s hand felt warm, not like it John feel to grab a fire Elemental’s hand, John was not one that much was obvious. The sensation bothered Sherlock who was quick to let go. 

Suddenly, a tangy smell clogged the room and a steady stream of pink smoke was coming from inside a cauldron held over the fire at the corner. Sherlock jumped from the workbench and rushed to the corner, lifting the cauldron and quickly setting it inside a tub cold water, vapor filling the room. Then, slowly he poured the contents of the caudron into several shallow and long containers. Every time he poured something different fell into the container, a purple liquid, a light colored paste, an orange jelly, at last a coin fell and the cauldron was empty, he set it aside. 

“What is that?” The newcomer asked, until that moment Sherlock had not realized the sidhe had followed him and was standing next to him. 

“The coin was cursed, I’m separating the elements of the curse and depending on what I find, I’ll know where it was made and with a bit of thinking who ordered it or made it.” Sherlock explained as he poked the jelly with a thin crystal staff. 

“Wow. That’s impressive.” 

Sherlock looked at him surprise clearly written on his face. “What?” Asked John defensively. 

“Nothing.” He replied shaking his head. “It’s nothing, just what I do.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me, but why?” 

“Because when they are not dining and gossiping, the members of the Seelie and Unseelie Court tend to be interesting or at least, the things they do to move in the social ladder.”

“Should I be worried?” Asked John, lifting an eyebrow.

“Hardly. You are but a healer and not a noble one, at that.” Replied Sherlock after eyeing for a moment.“The things you came in here looking for are on that self, Lady Hooper always box them and label them, you should be able to find them.” He added in a dismissive tone, turning back to the jelly thing. 

 

John left but came back a week or so later, looking for another box of standard supplies, Molly made him wait at the entrance, but he poked his head in and saw Sherlock hunched over a plant with tiny leaves.When Sherlock felt his gaze upon him, he lifted his head and they held each other gazes for a minute before Sherlock nodded a salutation and returned his attention to the plant, which somehow was starting to bloom, Molly put the box in his hand a second later and waved after him when he departed.

Sometimes they would see each other in the halls and stopped to have a chat every time. Sherlock wasn’t sure of why he did it, given the fact that he preferred to stay away from most people when he was not working on a case, however there was something different about John’s company. It wasn’t the quiet, simple kind he had with Molly or the way he had become accustomed to having Lestrade around. He enjoyed being around John.

 

They met again at the Infirmary, an ample room with tall windows that let the sun come through and row of beds with starched white sheets. The room itself was a mere formality for if a noble came down with illness, the healers often were required to go to their chambers. Once, he repaired a baron’s broken leg and he had to spend the night at the Infirmary, but he doubted barons often broke their legs. 

Sherlock walked into the Infirmary, well, perhaps walked gives the wrong idea. He staggered inside, a deep gash on his temple and left shoulder, where his black shirt was shredded and stained with blood, there was also blood on his sleeves as if he had used them to wipe himself and let himself plop down onto the nearest mattress staining the sheets with mud. 

John rushed to his side only part of that reaction was his eagerness to help, the other was a mix of surprise, curiosity and a dash of fear. Frowning in concentration he placed his fingertips on the gash on Sherlock’s temple, his hand emitting a faint blue shine, slowly the bleeding stopped and the wound began closing itself, leaving a narrow pink scar in its place. He then moved to the shoulder, worming his hand through the rip that had rendered the shirt into no more than a rag.

“Whatever happened to you?” Asked John and realizing he sounded more concern than a respectable healer should he added “Did you decide to join the royal guard and realized it is not for you? Or perhaps you angered your mount and it kicked you?” 

“None of that." scoffed Sherlock looking clearly annoyed. "Nepotism does not reach that far in either direction and I already spend a lot of my time at the potions workshop another commoner’s job and my family will cut my off from them." 

"Nepotism?"

"It's when a relative..."

 

"Of course I know what it means!" Interrupted John mildly annoyed. "I was asking who would be your sponsor"

Sherlock blinked at the brash interruption. “You must accept my apologies, as I am accustomed to deal with nobles who barely know to read I tend to forget not everyone is completely idiotic.” Sherlock ignored the estranged look that flashed on John’s face, for the healer was not used to hearing that kind of frankness from others than soldiers and kept talking. "Captain Lestrade happens to be my brother's other half" he pronounced the words without bothering to hide his disgust, the thought of having a soulmate somewhere out there bothered him so. 

"Seems to be like your brother got himself a very good match." 

"Hardly. The only person who could provide some sort of benefit to Mycroft at this point would be the queen herself." 

"You are a very calculating.” John shook his head. “I meant to say that the Captain is a good man, he comes around here sometimes when one of his knights get wounded, always accompanies them and makes conversation.” 

“Huh. I never knew people like Captain Lestrade.” Sherlock observed mostly for himself. ”And anyway, you can’t really congratulate Mycroft on his marriage, he has the personality of a stone and it is simply something bound to happen.” 

“I take it you don’t have a soulmate then” John asked carefully. 

“Nor I want one.” Declared Sherlock solemnly and somehow the action made him look like a stubborn child. 

“There is something you don’t hear every day” John pointed out casually. “But it seems to me you enjoy breaking conventions.”

“Mayhap.” Sherlock replied with a conspiratory smile and a wink, that definitely did not made John flustered. “But in this case it is more than that, settling down would be hindering.”

“Maybe so” Conceed John in a tone Sherlock had heard his father use to calm down the horses. “But you must forgive me for I have my doubts.”

 

Sherlock’s expression made his distaste for those words obvious. “How would you know? There is no mark on your hands nor on your neck. You haven’t met your soulmate either.” For when you first kiss your soulmate, matching marks appear those places of your body. The fae folk took delight in showing them off as much as they could.

“Peace, Lord Holmes...”

“Sherlock.” Interrupted the alluded sidhe. 

John smiled for he much preferred using Sherlock’s name and leave the honorific aside, never mind the awful familiarity of it. “Peace, Sherlock. I’m just saying I respect the tradition, since it has been infallible since the dawn of the fae folk and I suspect there is a reason for such a thing.”

“Perhaps.” Admitted Sherlock begrudgingly. “I should go, I’m not fond of bloodied clothing.” 

“You never told me what happened to you.” John observed. 

“It happens from time to time, I’m not as stealthy as people believe or as I want to be.” Sherlock shrugged. 

“Of course not, you’re a peacock, you like putting on a show.” John said rolling his eyes. 

“What do you mean?”

“It is just what you’re doing in this very second.”

Sherlock smiled as he left the room without uttering another word. 

 

 

 

 

 

John was also provided with a chamber of his own in the Palace, it wasn’t as big as those pertaining to nobles, with antechambers and beds with silk canopies, windows covered in heavy velvet curtains and pond-sized bathrooms. No, his was a regular bedroom with a nice comfortable bed, a carved wooden desk, a bookshelf and a bathroom where the water always smelled like lavender or eucalyptus. It was cozy and he liked it well enough, it was definitely an improvement from the barracks and fairly nicer than the rooms the servitude shared. Plus, he had learned not long ago that if he poked his head out and whispered the word tea, the wind will carry it and in a few minutes the demi-fae would bring a tray with hot tea and biscuits to him. 

That was just what he was about to do, but when he opened the door he found himself in front of a rather thin wall of chest, his eyes traveled up to catch Sherlock’s bemused expression before he turned it into a confident smile. John straightened up for he was all too aware of his size and looked at Sherlock without saying a word, the question written in his eyes instead. 

“There is an inevitable royal ball tonight, as it’s the birthday of the Queen’s dearest lady-in-waiting.” Sherlock explained rolling his eyes. John couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at the Queen for holding a ball, at the lady-in-waiting for daring to have a birthday or at John for not knowing. He decided on the second, simply because it was the most amusing option. 

He noticed Sherlock was dressed as a veritable courtier, wearing all black smoke turned into a doublet and trousers and the blazonry of his house embroidered on his handkerchief. Up to that point he had only ever seen Sherlock in work tunics made from leaves, pretty ones at that but much less grandiose than a regular noble’s outfit. It was difficult not to notice how good he looked. 

“There’s an inevitable royal ball and you’re standing in a healer’s door while it’s taking place.” Pointed out John, waiting for an explanation. “Is there going to be a murder?”

“I doubt it, since it would upset the Queen greatly and once the culprit is identified they would have to face her rage.” Sherlock answered, then he took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you would be willing to accompany me?”

“Me…?” Repeated John halfway between incredulous and surprised. 

“No, the girl standing right behind you, she used to be a courtier but then die and roams the Palace you have no idea of how hard it was for me to find her.” He replied, clearly exasperated. “Of course you” He finished scrunching up his nose in a ‘stop your nonsense’ manner. “Unless you want to spend your night being as bored as your days at the Infirmary, then I will leave you to it.” He added as an afterthought. 

John eyes widened in horror at the idea. Sherlock was right about it, his room could be pretty but it was impossibly boring inside them and something to get out of his routine would do him much good. 

“No, you’re right” Replied John far too quickly for it to pass as casual. “But I’m not...” He made a vague motion towards Sherlock. “Wait a moment, will you?” He did not wait for an answer before closing the door in Sherlock’s face leaving him startle, he was usually the one closing doors in people’s faces.

Dressing with magic was something John did not usually did, for it was easier to wear already fashioned clothes and the sylphs and selkies had nimble fingers and used excellent material, but he figured the occasion demanded it from him. As a healer, he couldn’t do complicated things like dressing in flames or foam, but he managed to dress himself in the dark blue of blueberries and made it follow the fashion trends of Court. 

He opened the door and practically jumped outside his bedroom, Sherlock was still in the hallway, laying down looking at the ceiling way more concentrated than he should. When John looked up he saw the smoke. It was almost white and barely visible, but it was there forming an image of the palace, as it was seen from the sky, it was rotating slowly and John wondered how could a fire elemental had such an image. 

Sherlock turned to him and blinked, with that the image vanished like it had never been there and Sherlock jumped up. He put a John on John’s shoulder to smooth a wrinkle in the fabric and smiled at him, like he was genuinely happy to see him. 

“Let us go, then.” He prompted. 

 

 

 

John had been at the banquet hall before, just once, when he got lost on his way to the chambers of Lady Green, who was ill with nefferums. It was an enormous room with a single long table, and several crystal chandeliers, the windows rose from the floor in elegant arches that showed the eastern gardens, where the flowers formed swirls of colour. That time it had been empty, but now, nobles and their retainers crowded the room trying to get to their seats or talking in small groups in quiet corners. Some of them were already seated and talking to the ones seating besides them, Molly was there sitting near the head of the table, much closer to the Queen than she ought to. And the cut of her red dressed revealed the soft waves of a mark crossing her collarbones. 

Sherlock’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, which made John gaze follows his. 

“Oh, it’s that girl from the potion’s workshop.” Said John, making Sherlock turn his attention to him. “I didn’t realize she was noble born.”

“She is although there’s a lot of people who wish she wasn’t, including herself. She traded debauchery for her little workshop and was named potion master here. She’s always invited because she is a royal, but other’s nobles don’t like her and she definitely never sits that close to the Queen.” 

“And what does that means?”

“Well, I was aware she was having a dalliance with someone from the Seelie Court, but I never thought it would be someone that important.” 

“It is not a dalliance, she has a mark.” Corrected John, and then prompted. “Who is it, then?” 

“I have no idea” Sherlock deadpanned. “Maybe we’ll get an answer for that later, but for now let’s sit before someone tries to make small talk, plus the Queen must be well on her way.” He said as he lead John to their seats at the table. 

 

Everyone gave John curious glances and leaned in her heads to whisper to the people next to them, faeries were not known for their subtlety, he did his best to ignore them and instead focused his attention on Sherlock. He was relaxed amidst the people, his elbows resting on the table, his gaze recorrer the room. 

Suddenly, he leaned into John and motioned slightly with his head toward the furthest set of doors where a brownie and a boggart were entering. The brownie had long her and completely black eyes. The other one looked a bit shabby as if he had really tried to make himself presentable, but he had a handsome face. 

"Those are the ambassadors of the Unseelie Court. There are lots of rumors surrounding them, as it is with rumours most of them aren’t true.” 

“Which ones are true?” Asked John.

“Well, they did made the Ocean’s Court ambassador’s skin change colours for a whole day, but she was extremely disrespectful to them while in Court.” Sherlock answered thoughtfully. “No one could prove anything,though.”

“But you know,” John pointed out.

“Yes, and you do, too. That makes a total of us four.”

“But why wouldn’t you tell anyone?” 

“Because I also dislike the Ocean’s Court Ambassador, he’s an insufferable man.” Sherlock’s smile made John let out a laugh of his own. 

Bells and flutes announced the arrival of the Queen and all the nobles who were still standing and talking when to their seats, Mycroft sat next to Sherlock and Lestrade next to him. John noticed the matching tudor flowers on the back of their hands, just slightly darker than their skin tones. He also noticed the antipathic looks the brothers sent each other. Everyone stood as the Queen entered the room and waited until she sat down to imitate her. 

Once the Queen gave the order, rows and rows of demi-fae entered the room, carrying bowls of soup and salad for every attendant. There was venison and beef, cod and salmon, chicken and turkey, roasted potatoes and several kinds of rice and cheese, roasted nuts and mushrooms. John had an uncle who was a duke at the Forest Court and sometimes they went to visit him, but there was no way his uncle’s banquets could ever compare to those of the Queen. By the time the desserts arrived, he was full, but still toyed with the idea of serving himself a bit of pudding. 

Sherlock had barely touched his food, but now was happily digging into at least six slices of different pies and cakes, under Mycroft’s covetous look. He hummed happily as he ate. 

Once the dinner was over and everyone was talking animatedly, the Queen snapped her fingers, lighting all the candles set over the table to attract the attention. In an instant the room was silent. The Queen stood up, but motioned everyone to remain seated. 

“After this delicious dinner, I do believe it is the time for the ball to start.” After she said this the doors at the farthest wall from the head of the table opened, revealing a great hall. 

The Queen extended her hand towards the lady in waiting who was being celebrated, who made no movement to take it but stood up and together they entered the room. The rest of the nobles followed them eagerly. 

The Queen’s orchestra was playing for that ball, all of them music fairies of the regions of the kingdom, that had made a different instrument their speciality. 

 

 

The Queen and her lady in waiting opened the dance with a pavano. As more couples joined the dance, Sherlock and John retreated to the sides of the room. There weren’t chairs around, so Sherlock took the easiest route and sat on the marble floor, his back against the wall, he looked up at John who was still standing at his until the healer made an ‘oh well’ expression and sat next to him. 

Sherlock decided they were not close enough and so, he scoot over until their bodies were pressed side to side and John sort of resigned himself to saying goodbye to his personal space. After about half a second of consideration, he decided it wasn’t bad at all, as a fire elemental Sherlock’s body temperature was slightly higher than average and the ballroom floor was pretty cold. 

The fire sidhe leaned his head to the side until his hair was brushing against John’s cheek, his head almost but not quite resting on John’s shoulder and he reassumed his babbling about courtiers and the strange affairs they got into. The mistresses of the Fire Court ambassador all joined in an attempt to take him down, the marsh fae throw moonlight parties and steal all the wine, the few members of the unseelie court sometimes turned rooms upside down. There were other less lighthearted facts, like how he figured out the Duke Lucker’s son and only heir was about to be poisoned by order of the Archduke, and the diplomat who hung himself because he could not pay his debts and how much Captain Lestrade had to work in order to arrest a noble, because their families did not want their surname to be disgraced. 

He stopped talking after a while, but John felt like he could not leave the conversation hanging so in turned he told Sherlock tales about the Faelands War and lakes of fire and cloud of smoke, followed by tidal waves. He was careful to leave out the bits about Alfie and Bella and all the people they lost, for he hated the way his throat closed and the words wouldn’t come out right when he tried. Sherlock stared straight ahead the whole time, but John realized that if he stopped talking long enough, his eyes would travel towards John briefly, like he was making sure he was still there. 

He didn’t long to dance with the sylph (they were much better dancers than him anyway), talk with the nymphs or join the satires chatter. It was like he couldn’t quite conceive the idea of leaving the sidhe at his side. No, he could, he definitely could but it wasn’t attractive at all. 

John didn’t know how long they had been talking or how many dances the other attendees had danced when Sherlock stood up and tend him a hand to help him stand up. John took it without missing and beat and once he was upright Sherlock strolled towards the doors leading to the gardens. 

“Are we leaving already?”

“We made an appearance and we sat down on the floor for several dances, that covers everything it is expected from this at one of these social events.” Replied Sherlock.  
“You’re a strange nobleman.” John said and it wasn’t the first time Sherlock heard those words, but John was smiling rather fondly and that was new. 

“Yes, that keeps them away unless they have something worth our time” Sherlock explained as he opened the door for John. "Plus it makes Mycroft angry which is even better" he added with that secretive smile of his. 

The door lead directly to one of the gardens, there was a path of tiny opalescent rocks that gleamed delicately under the moonlight and another path of bigger circular stones that crossed the river, both of them lead to the same place a wide clearing surrounded by red and white carnations. Sherlock jumped on a rock and John selected that stone path so he could walk besides him. 

"Why are we taking this route?" 

"Crossing the dancefloor seemed unwise, someone could have snatched either of us away for a dance." Replied Sherlock brushing it off. 

When they reached the clearing they were standing in front of each other without talking. It should have been strange, but it wasn't. It was comfortable and warm, the kind of silence that happens when there's not much to say so you say nothing, the kind of silence that means a lot more than words. 

"Thank you. For accompanying me this evening" 

"Oh, no. If anything I should be taking you for sparing me a boring night I doubt I would've learned all that I've learned tonight in years and years of living here. Plus I happen to enjoy your company" 

"You would have. Your wits are sharp enough." Sherlock sounded thoroughly convinced and John couldn’t help but feel flattered.

And John wasn't sure what it was about that certain sidhe, but he wasn't sure that he cared right at that moment when he felt warm and bubbly. The kiss felt inevitable and unstoppable and like puzzle pieces fitting together after a long while of hard thinking. 

John angled his head upwards and stretches just enough for their lips to touch. Sherlock was warm and tastes like the chocolate cake he had been eating earlier. He was a little stiff at first like he wasn't quite sure of what to do, but once he managed to relax into the kiss he placed a hand on John’s back pulling him closer and John allowed himself to tangle his hand on Sherlock’s curls. 

 

They kissed until they decided that breathing was necessary, too. Sherlock felt the temperature of his hand dropping and when he looked at it he noticed the intricate swirls on the black of his hand that reached almost to his palm. 

Oh. 

When he looked up he found John looking at his own hand where an identical design had formed. 

Oh. 

Every negative aspect of having a soulmate his mind had ever thought since he was fifteen flooded his head and for a second he panicked, but then John laughed. A soft and musical, genuinely happy laughter and Sherlock found himself returning the gesture with ease. 

And maybe he thought just maybe it would be that bad at all.


End file.
